


Hoc Scelus Est

by kabrox18



Series: nasties AU [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game), Red vs. Blue
Genre: Apologies, I did no research for this, Monster Reaper, Other, Very AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-12 10:56:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7931986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kabrox18/pseuds/kabrox18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>reaper goes on an adventure and bangs felix. there's also some angst, but mostly angry reaper and fight scenes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Adventures in Betrayal

**Author's Note:**

> for a very close friend on tumblr, whom doesn't have an ao3, the-felix-mcscouty.  
> bless u locusdesperatus on here for beta'ing for me and helping me

“I want you to both go, and bring me souls. I'll feed you plenty when you return, so  _ don't _ eat any.” King Felix gave a pointed look to his pretty Reaper, who was cloaked in white leather and armor. It drew a grumble from the ghost, but Felix didn't yell at him, instead tapping his fingertips on the plush armrest of his tall throne.

“Locus, you know what to do. I assume you'll do it well, too. Don't fail me, either of you.”

“Of course,” the demons replied, and both of them left, leaving Felix there as they rose to the surface, Locus dragging Reaper along.

\------

Reaper killed off another human brat, capturing the soul in a specialized container, looking to Locus subtly. The other demon was off further away, looking in a different direction. The white-clothed spectre purred to himself and quickly ended a miserable little human, eating their soul for himself while Locus was looking away. He felt pleased with himself for not getting noticed and collected another few souls, filling out his container.

“I'm ready to go,” he called, watching Locus come to him, eying the spectre a moment before grabbing him, pulling him down.

This bit was  _ always _ dreadful, and the ghost tried very hard to ignore the sensation of being peeled apart at the seams and stitched back together.

“We’re here,” Locus grumbled, letting go of the other and heading toward the tall throne built out of the bones of those suffering their crimes here. Felix was on top of it, the fluffy soft seat keeping the King comfortable.

“Did you bring me the amount I asked?”

Reaper nodded, offering the container up to his master. Things were going well, until Locus decided to snitch on him.

“He ate one.”

“I did  _ not _ !” He snapped, sounding a bit offended.

“I saw you with my own eyes,” Locus growled in return, backing up when he was threatened by a face full of weapons.

“Snitches get stitches,  _ Locus _ .” The spectre yelped and dropped the shotguns as he was lifted by the scruff of his neck by the easily 12-foot King.

“Two things. Don't lie, and don't hurt your partner. You disobeyed both of those means you need a punishment.”

Reaper suddenly did a 180, going from snappy and hostile to pitifully begging.

“I didn't mean it, oh  _ please _ -” he was halted by the sound of one of his belts coming off, Felix dropping him on his lap.

“You did mean it, and you should know better than to try and talk your way out of these things. Should've listened better~”

“Please no,” he whimpers, even as he's forced down to his elbows and knees, laid out over the King’s lap like a cat. Reaper covers his head fearfully, tensing in preparation for what was to come.

_ Snap! _

The wraith howls at the hit, Locus and Felix both laughing at his suffering.

“Brat,” Locus spits at him, venom in his tone. Reaper curls against the heat of his master’s legs, hiding his head further and wishing this would be over. It didn't hurt, not too much, but it wounded his ego. Already his pride was damaged from the last little event Felix broadcasted, everyone watching as he was put up as an example. This was even worse because  _ Locus _ was there. He felt miserable as his bum was reddened from the sharp spanking, the leather snapping against his ashen skin. The sting was almost pleasant but he'd prefer this punishment to be private. Then, at least, he knew he could try and flirt his way out--the King  _ loved _ being pampered by his pets.

_ Oh well _ , he mused sadly, not lifting his head as the last slap came, Felix piecing him back together and placing him back on the ground. He collapsed to his hands and knees, weakly groveling to his master for a reprieve from the shame.

“You were the one who disobeyed me,” came the sharp reply, and Reaper flinched from the loud voice. He curled up, pulling his hood over his mask more to hide it. Even now, he couldn't really hide. Felix sent him back to his little cave--he remembered owning a much bigger one when he was first peeled from his half-alive state to be the King’s hand, but had been quickly moved for  _ repeated disobedience _ . He crashed into his little nest, rubbing his sore bum and covering himself with a thin blanket.

“I hate Locus,” he mumbled under the cloth, only to jump at the voice of his nemesis.

“Hate is a strong word,”

“Damn bug,” he muttered, relaxing after the small scare and peeping out.

“What do you want?”

“I want to capitalize on your shame.”

“Naturally,” Reaper sneered.

“I could always drag you out to make you watch me pleasure the King while you suffer alone,” the demon responds, peeling back the blanket to show the ghost curled into a ball.

“You wouldn't  _ dare, _ ” he snaps, head coming up, brilliant red eyes fixing on Locus.

“Oh I would. I bet he'd love the idea of making you suffer even more, too.”

“ _ What do you want _ ,” he hisses again, Locus grinning widely.

“I changed my mind. I'm not going to capitalize on your shame, I'm going to increase it.” Locus snatched him up before he could reply, flying with Reaper in his grasp. The spectre scowled, jealousy flaring up at the elegant appendages Locus owned. He'd never had wings, he was stuck with his ghosting and smoke-related abilities. It made him envious of almost everyone he ever saw, since they all seemed to have them. It was certainly irritating on a good day.

Today was not a good day.

“Stop squirming,” Locus snarled, wrangling the vengeful wraith into a more manageable position that resembled an awkward full body hug. Reaper wished he could free his arms from the other demon and thrash around, deadly claws swinging everywhere. Alas, he couldn't--another advantage Locus had over him was strength.

_ At this rate Felix might as well return me to that twilight existence, _ he thought bitterly. It seemed like he was given the short straw in every draw. It made him one miserable, sour creature, but Felix seemed to like him, in some twisted, hateful way. 

Before long he was dropped unceremoniously and would've been in rather ugly physical pain had he not misted on impact.

“There you are Locus. I called you twice!” Felix snapped, seeming irritated, but in a warm way that made Reaper want to vomit, even though that was a thing of the past.

“I'm sorry, my King. I was just retrieving the idiot so that I could increase his suffering, I knew you'd like that.”

“Humph. Fair enough. Next time, at least give me a sign.”

“Understood.” Reaper solidified, but faced away, refusing to watch this sickening event. He instead drew his claws over the ground over and over, sharpening them and drowning out the disgusting sounds at his back. When would this be over? If the King liked him so much, then why did he delight in making the spectre suffer?

Maybe it was time for something more radical than just ignoring orders.

Maybe it was time to kill someone important to get the King’s attention.

Maybe this was insane and he was just bitter and angry.

Oh well, Felix  _ did _ always say to let anger be one of many fuels for the fire within.

With that thought, Reaper vanished, both the King and Locus too distracted to notice him gone.

\------

Sheunach wasn't too high-ranking, and hadn't expected the sudden series of traps, ending in a lethal attack by Reaper himself. His soul was oh-so-satisfying to consume, filling the spectre in ways he didn't recognize and making him feel  _ new _ . It made him feel not only refreshed but stronger. If the King wanted to abuse his power to torture lesser demons, to ruin them and leave them bitter, then Reaper would feed on those tortured souls, collecting them and giving them purpose as fuel for his raging inferno of hate. He’d face the King, head on, he'd claim the throne and exact his delightful revenge. Already he could picture the adoration he'd witness, the  _ love _ and  _ caring _ for him as a leader. He wouldn't be a filthy tyrant like Felix would at all. He just had to be careful; the King was likely already searching for him, and would quickly catch wind of Sheunach and soon others going missing. Already he felt uneasy just sitting here next to the shriveled, ashy remains of the other demon, and he quickly started moving away, making sure to double back and take lesser used routes to ensure he wasn't being tailed. After the fifth time he went back he felt better and head to a cramped cave with a dozen something other refugees. Humans dragged here to suffer or demons that scrambled into hiding for whatever reason. He was the cleanest there, they all stared at him with fear and awe in their eyes.

Practice time.

“I'm sorry,” he started off, tone soft, “but I need a quiet place to stay for a while. Is it okay if I stay here?”

“Yes, of course. Maybe someone like you can keep us safe.” Others further away agreed with the fidgety human--the leader by the way he held himself--and the spectre nodded a bit.

“I’d be willing to help. Is there anyone in particular that’s been giving you trouble?”

“There is one. He is large though and maybe too powerful for you.”

“Maybe. But we will see.” He went to sit on the grubby floor, sighing a bit as he examined his lovely, shiny claws idly. “Does he have any patterns? Maybe he comes by at a certain time or moves a certain way?”

“He comes by every time there's a chime. He's a dragon-looking thing, big wings and scales and fire pouring out of his mouth and chest.”

“Humph. I know him. It'll be easy to get rid of him.”

“Oh, thank you so much. We can't offer much besides verbal thanks…”

“Killing him and feeding on his soul is reward enough,” the ghost said simply, looking up at the too-thin human. Their eyes went wide but they said nothing, leaving the ghost be.

\------

The chime sounded, and Koran stalked out of his chamber. It was dinner time and he was going to have a snack of a couple little demons and maybe a sweet morsel of a human. He arched his back and hurried to that refugee cave, only to be halted by someone in his way. He stopped and looked down, dozens of eyes stuttering around in their sockets before fixing on none other than the King’s hand.

“Ahh, Reaper,” he croaked, jaws parting in a grin. The masked spectre didn't say much back, watching him silently for a moment.

“You aren't wanted here,” the ghost said stiffly after a pause, one clawed hand coming up to pull his mask off. His own set of four red eyes met those of Koran, intense and no-nonsense.

“Ah, fighting for the refugees are we Mr. Hand of the King?”

“No. I am one. And I don't work for Felix anymore.” The larger demon looked startled that one of the  _ King’s hands _ had been fired. Of course both were troublemakers, but Reaper in particular was praised for being crafty and dangerous. Why would the King fire him?

“Why don't you work for him anymore?” Koran gurgled, cocking his head one way, then the other, his loose flesh dangling and wiggling about.

“I quit. It doesn't matter, anyway--you aren't wanted here, Koran. Leave before I take drastic measures.”

“Drastic measures?” The creature replies with a hiss, head rearing back.

“I'm searching for power. Not the forced kind, like Felix, but a kind built from ending the corrupt and bringing justice upon that bastard for torturing one of his own.”

“No wonder you wear white,” the creature mused, settling into its haunches.

“What's that supposed to mean?” The ghost snapped, patience thinning.

“You sound like some goody-two shoes on the surface. Not at all like the wily, dangerous monster Felix makes you out to be. He seems to adore you, and is likely worried sick at his favorite pet running away from him.”

“Favorite pet?!” The spectre was  _ incredulous _ .

“Yes, he never shuts up about you during battle plans. Always, he talks about how lovely you look, how wonderful you are to him, how clever and deadly you are. The shame is to make you angry. It's intentional.”

“ _ Lies _ ,” he snapped, jabbing a finger at the demon.

“Oh I’m lying? Are you sure you aren't just  _ delusional _ ? Bitter over being made into an example and punished over everything so Felix can remold you into his perfect general?”

“Perfect general?!” Reaper stammered, feeling lost; his previous plan to destroy the creature before him was dashed in the waves of sudden confusion.

“Go back to him,” Koran said gently, nudging Reaper with his snout. The spectre said nothing, but closed all four eyes, silently pinging Felix to bring him home.

\------

“Where  _ were _ you?!” The King screeched at the wraith standing before him. His tail was flicking about agitatedly and he wanted to rip Reaper apart for running away like that.

“I went away… I didn't realize your greater plan.”

“So Koran found you and told you?” The ghost was silent a moment; if Felix had told the old demon his plans, then it was hard to picture either of them lying.

“Yes,” he said softly, keeping his head bowed in shame.

“Good. Maybe now you'll understand. I was hoping you'd never find out--you don't fight as hard when you know motives.”

“I'm sorry,” he said, barely audible. Felix was booming at him, voice echoing about his large chamber, which was adorned with many treasures and held an air of elegance no other place did.

“I'm sorry,” he repeated, looking up at his King. Why would he betray such a beautiful creature? Even now he felt pangs of regret for making the much larger demon fret so much. Felix sighed, folding his wings at his back, the glow of the feathers fading slowly. He kneeled and gently tipped his pet’s chin up, looking into those sharp, beautiful, ruby-colored eyes.

“I accept your apology,” Felix said softly, tone growing quiet and gentle. He gently touched that lovely shadowy face, brushing fingertips along the darkened curves of his face.

“You are so wonderful,” he murmured, leaning closer. He wanted Reaper to be perfect, but now his chances of that were ruined.

“Koran said you never stopped talking about me during planning times. He said you loved me and wanted me to be your best general. That's why you hurt me, to make me better and forge me into the leader you wanted.”

“He wasn't lying,” came the affectionately joking reply.

“I know, now. I feel terrible for misreading all your actions.” Felix sighed and kissed his head, Reaper’s eyes closing as he leaned into the slow, tender affection. He craved the soft touches and gentleness his King was giving him; he'd be lying through his razorlike teeth if he said it didn't fill him with a deep-seated feeling of pure satisfaction. Felix shrank gradually, stopping when the top of his head was level with his spectre’s chin.

“There. Now I'm perfectly sized for some make-up cuddling,” the King said happily, those stunning eyes coming down to look him over.

“You're smaller than me,” Reaper said with a bit of confusion tinging his speech.

“Yep. Now c’mon already, I can't be like this forever. I have shit to do. One of those things might end up being you.” It took a full three seconds for the double entendre to register in the ghost’s head, who looked down rather slowly to Felix with an expression of pure surprise.

“You're planning to… Do me?” He sounded almost  _ alarmed _ . It took everything of the King’s will not to bust a gut at the aghast look written over that soot-black face.

“Yep. Or maybe the other way around. I wouldn't mind being a little sub bottom just for you.” He ran his slender fingers up that thick chest, playing with the perfectly-crafted leather.

“But… Punishment? Perfect General?” He sounded  _ befuddled _ now, and Felix snickered softly.

“Ah, rewards can do a lot in shaping people too. You came back to me so I'm rewarding you. Now let's go, hmm?” He stood up on his tiptoes to kiss that hidden mouth, humming in delight as his tongue grazed those lovely teeth.

\------

Reaper had never even seen the King’s bedroom, let alone  _ been  _ in it. It was like a tiny slice of paradise compared to everything else. Even the bed was laced with a dozen things and words of Latin to make it suitable for Felix. Reaper almost didn't want to lay on it--he didn't dare taint his King’s sleeping place. But this was a very specific circumstance, and he supposed he could try to reverse any damage he did.

Apparently he hesitated for a bit too long, because Felix huffed at him.

“If you're worried about rumpling the sheets, relax. The bed is fine. Now get in here so you can fuck me senseless.” He pat the spot next to him, watching the spectre sit hesitantly and look around unsurely. he didn't even  _ dare _ rest his hand down; his claws were  _ too sharp _ for these silky sheets, and he was  _ too spiky _ to avoid puncturing the bed.

“Reaper,” Felix called, watching those eyes turn his way. “What's taking so long? Come on,” he sounded and looked impatient with that cute pout and insistent tugging on the loose leather of his cloak.

“I don't want to mess up your bed, or puncture it or something,” the ghost admitted shyly.

“I already told you, don't worry. Besides, doesn't most of that armor come off?”

“Yes, but I thought this was cuddling, and we were saving the other for later.”

“You're confused.” The King concluded, watching those glowing red eyes blink a few times before he nodded.

“Sort of, yes. I just don't feel very…  _ worthy  _ to be in here.”

“If I let you in, you are.” He pointed up at that misty face sternly. A nod from the spectre was the reply, and Felix ended up tugging him down despite gentle, well-meaning protests. He was  _ warm _ for being the creature he was, and Felix curled eagerly against that warmth. He hummed and leaned to play with those velvety soft black lips that were invisible against his face, only his glowing eyes sticking out against the inky gloom.

“I'm still going to make you my perfect general. I don't care how it happens, but it's going to happen.” He shifts them both, rolling Reaper onto his back so Felix can straddle his lovely hips.

“Mm-mm, so lovely. I love you and I would love to have  _ more  _ of you.” The King smirks and undoes one of the half-dozen belts strewn over him to keep his complex armor together. He starts making some noise that Felix doesn't recognize initially; he leans in and Reaper closes his eyes, the noise suddenly stopping.

“What was that?” The King questions, tugging down the leather and armor covering those absolutely  _ perfect  _ thighs.

“Nothing, my King. Please, continue.” Felix huffs and wrinkles his nose in annoyance at the lack of answer, but then gasps in delight at the sight of garters and tight, silky panties.

“ _ Oh my _ ,” he breathes out, running his fingertips over the fabric  _ straining _ under the girth of the legs in them.

“It's a comfort thing. I chafe easily,” the spectre admitted rather sheepishly, but the admission fell on deaf ears--Felix was too preoccupied touching along the tops of thin tights that helped with taking the leg armor off.

“Do you have a whole lingerie set under your armor?”

“The chest is a bit looser, but not much. I have a thin shirt under it.” Felix sighed in slight disappointment and slowly got the wraith down to his soft, somewhat slippery undergarments. He seemed very against taking his cowl off, so Felix left it with a vaguely threatening  _ this time _ .

Now Reaper was splayed out comfortably over the bed, happy to lay there now he wasn't worried about his spiked armor tearing things up.

“You look  _ perfect _ . Now we just need to get you fixed up mentally.”

“That may be an adventure.”

“You never did like to lead,” Felix agreed, then gently cupped the rather large lump of flesh tucked in those delectably tight panties. He must be  _ enormous _ to have them strain like this--Felix licked his lips at the mere thought of having all that to himself. He gave it a gentle squeeze, fingers curling into it and feeling out his prize, drawing tiny, rather cute noises from the ghost. He hummed and finally tugged the panties down a bit, freeing Reaper from the silky prison. He'd been right about the size and groaned a little at the sight of it laying up along the crease between his pet’s thigh and hip.

“I'm going to actually have to use some lube for you,” Felix commented as he grabbed the slimy substance from his nightstand. Reaper didn't reply--he seemed lost, almost. Maybe he was contemplating the fact that someone he'd plotted to kill only a day ago was going to ride him into the metaphorical sunset. Maybe he was just thinking about the last time he’d been pleased like this.

It was hard to tell, what with his eyes being the only visible feature on his face, and both pairs were closed, making them invisible too.

Felix worked himself open with two fingers, then three, staring at that lovely piece of meat he’d be claiming. He was eager in more ways than one, if the warm, wet dribbles running down his fingers were any indication. He hummed and moved, wiping his hand on the sheet and lifting the ghost’s thick shaft, humming in delight as he slowly took the head, biting his lip at the feeling and letting his eyes close. Reaper started making that noise again, and Felix slowly leaned forward, careful not to alert the wraith and make him stop again.

“Are you  _ purring _ ?” He blurts out, the sweet, soft sound abruptly halting.

“...no,” he says, licking his lips a bit.

“Yes you were, you totally were. It was so cute!” Reaper mumbles something in embarrassment, and Felix figures if he wasn't jet black, he'd be blushing. The King hummed and leaned to kiss that pretty mouth, hoping he purred more as he slowly slid down, taking more of the wraith into himself. No purring, but he did get the pleasure of eating up a rather sultry moan--that was almost as good. Reaper is quivering a little, hands seeming to rove the sheets in search of something. Felix chuckles and takes one, guiding it by the wrist to the small of his back. It settles there and stays put, the other curling into a fist as the King sheathes more of him in that lovely wet heat.

“This'll be short,” Felix muttered, looking down to where he'd only taken about half of the ghost.

“Why do you figure that?”

“You're so big, I've only taken half and already I'm close to wanting to cum. I guess that's why I always preferred you two eating me out. Oh well, at least I'm good at holding back, yeah?”

“You are,” Reaper wheezed out. He seemed pretty swept up in it himself, which Felix took solace in. At least he wasn't the only one who’d finish early. He continued to slide down gradually, taking bit by delicious bit before he stopped, rocking his hips around before lifting them, digging his fingers into the chest below him. The ghost made a disgustingly lewd sound, head pressing back into the pillow hard as he arched up into Felix’s hands. 

_ Oh, he's hot like this,  _ the demon thought, quickly starting to make small movements, riding only a tiny part but still enjoying the friction. He soon started moving down again, oh-so-slowly getting to the hilt.

“Fuck,” he grinds out between clenched teeth, rolling his hips to test that lovely full feeling. Reaper’s mouth is hanging open, hot breaths coming out shallow and desperate. Felix grins at the spectre who looks like he’s died again.

“Oh baby, if you think this is it, you haven't seen  _ anything _ . I bet you'll cum nice and quick once I really get going.”

“I-I'll try not to,” the spectre manages, and the King pats his chest reassuringly.

“Don't worry darling~ If you cum fast, it won't hurt anything. I can control all of that so don't you worry your little head.” With that, he places a kiss on where he figures Reaper’s nose would be--if he had one, that is. He then begins to bounce, almost pulling off before dropping all the way back down. It feels  _ amazing  _ and Reaper jolts, eyes squeezing shut tighter as he babbles and makes various noises of pleasure. It's a humorous scene and Felix would laugh; at least, he would if he wasn't so focused on riding the delectable shaft beneath him. Every time he drops down he feels so satisfyingly full, and every time he pulls up, he feels empty and needy again. It's a wonderful cycle and before long he’s grown erratic, Reaper having gone from babbling to deep, guttural sounds that send shivers and goosebumps over Felix. He suddenly jerks  _ up _ , hips slamming upward to meet with his King’s, his claws digging into that creamy, soft flesh. Felix howls in pleasure as he's filled, his whole figure quivering and going stiff as he hits his own climax. Both come down slow, the King sliding up off his new favorite toy while his pet basks in warm afterglow. The ghost is still panting, looking ready for a nap.

“That's all for coming back to me,” Felix said as he lay next to the larger person.

“I'll have to try that again, then,” the spectre jokes, only to get hit.

“Don't you dare run off again.”

“Well I won't. But I  _ should _ probably be going.” He shifts and pushes himself up, wincing a little at the visible claw marks over his master’s back.

“I'm sorry,” he says as he runs his knuckles just above the cuts, down his spine.

“For?” Felix lifts his head and looks to those concerned eyes, which are roving over his back.

“I cut you all over your back with my claws.”

“Eh, they'll heal.” Reaper sighs and Felix watches him get up, gathering up his armor and cloak.

“...Do you have to leave  _ right now _ ?” The causes the ghost to pause and look back at him.

“I'm sure you’d rather me sleep in my own cave, yes?”

“I like you here with me though.” Reaper is silent a long moment, looking between his armor and Felix. He looks to the bed, thinking about how his own nest feels compared to the luxurious bed before him.

“...I suppose I can stay the night,” he finally says resignedly, setting his armor down to lay with the King again. He gently curls one arm around him, settling in and closing his eyes as Felix presses gentle kisses over his face.

* * *

 


	2. Perfect General

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper is altered physically and mentally. The angels attack and he learns firsthand that some risks are worth taking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a heads up there's some light-ish torture in this chapter. nothing too major, I figure.

Reaper strides out of the room, extremely pleased with himself. Four kills for that wild, stupid attempt, and he was thrilled his insane idea worked. Felix was sure to reward him for doing such a good job. He felt the tug of his master calling him and pulled the device from his cloak, pressing the button and closing his eyes as it allowed him to mist right through the thick earth and deep underground. He stopped in front of his King’s throne, tucking the device away once he congealed.

“Good news,” he said happily, “my idea worked, and so did that device. Now I can move between our world and the surface without Locus’s assistance.”

“Excellent, my Reaper. You did a wonderful job. I have a reward for you that I think you'll like.” The ghost nodded, eagerly awaiting it.

“Since you've done such an excellent job as of late, I'm giving you a promotion--now you'll have full control of another ten creatures.” 

The throne room grows bright; the ornate cavern melts away as the words fade suddenly, and Reaper sits up. He's in his nest, and he looks around. Just a dream. A note catches his eyes and he plucks it up, opening it.

_ Didn't want you to wake up alone in my bed, so I took you back to your cave.  _

_ Sorry, Felix  _

He sighs a little as some choice events resurface in his mind, including the placement of the slender leather collar that now rests around his neck. He climbs out of his nest and goes to his makeshift bathroom, looking into the mirror. His hood’s been knocked off and he can see the way his head is almost shapeless, the outline blurred by thick smoke. He opens his mouth, the jaw unhinging and dropping even wider as he peers down his throat to see why it itches. Demons don't get sick, as far as he knew.

Although, he also didn't really  _ count _ as a demon to his knowledge, so he could probably get sick.

The prospect of being sick made him a little annoyed, and he closed his mouth back up to check his eyes. They looked okay, if a little glossier than normal, and he resolved to ask Felix what was going on.

He steps out, and is greeted by something he can only call  _ chaos _ . White and gold blurs past, whipping his cloak up in the wind. He swears in a few different languages, arming and armoring instinctively as he rushes in to try and find Felix. A demon goes flying past and some kind of  _ machine _ chases it down, slinging bolts of energy. He picks up speed, rushing along to where he hears the King roaring orders. He’s halted in his tracks however, by another blur of white and gold--this one slams him onto his back, leaving him dizzy and vulnerable. It pulls some broadsword and he almost gets impaled before he mists away, reforming a couple meters away. The blur is still there but looks up at him, hunching to charge again. The demon almost howls at the sight of an  _ angel _ , right there in front of him. The thing has some kind of rifle and takes wild swinging shots at him that almost graze him half a dozen times. He manages to get in a bit closer and snaps out a trio of shots, forcing the thing back. It snarls and leaps up, Reaper following it sharply before losing sight. 

He drops his guard only long enough to dump his weapons and pull fresh ones, warily moving toward his goal of Felix. He guns down a massive machine on his way there, a blue cube at its back that mists against the heat of the large cavern cracking and shattering at the sheer firepower. Energy pours out and Reaper sweeps up a bit for himself as he charges again. He knows if he gets cornered again it's game over--as strong as demons were, as strong as  _ he _ was--angels were always stronger. Always. It was an irrefutable fact but damn if he wanted to stomp all over it and become stronger than any angels. These war machines they employed seemed to just be decoys, holding positions until the real fighters came in glittering pearlescent armor, gold accents gone red from the fires eternally burning in this endless pit. He faced down machine after machine, tearing through them and clearing a path for the others. As soon as he set eyes on his master he felt relief--at least he was still kicking, although he was in extremely bad shape. He dropped from an outcropping of rock, turning into a whirl of death and destruction as he screamed out threats and profanities in Latin. He took out the damn machines that were all perched around, pushing the angels back hard. It gave Felix a few precious moments to heal himself and get back to his feet, panting.

“My Reaper,” he said, sounding relieved.

“Not now, those monsters could come back any second and we need to be ready.” He couldn't help the irritation in his voice--first he was sick and now there were fucking prissy birds everywhere. He wanted to rip out their souls and-

“Reaper!”

“What?” He turned, looking a bit surprised at the worry.

“You look ready to shred Heaven itself. Relax. Now that they’ve lost their foothold, they’re retreating. We have time to regroup; they won't come back for a while. At least, if this is anything like previous fights with them.” Felix sighed a little, smiling tiredly when the ghost slowly settled down.

“Why did they attack?”

“No idea. I wasn't even their first target--but that's not exactly good news. Last time they pulled something like this, they tried to steal our plans and technology.”

“Did they get anything?”

“No. Locus made sure of it.” Reaper suddenly felt sick; Felix’s hate had been for a reason, but Locus just straight up wanted his entrails pulled through his throat and his remains paraded around.

“Reaper? You look about ready to pass out.” The King came closer but was waved off.

“I'm fine.” 

Famous last words--he felt the world tilt off-balance and suddenly he hit the ground.

\------

“We failed,” the blonde muttered, slamming his hand on the long, silvery table. Another person with ghost-white hair shook their head mutely.

“I  _ know _ , what did we do wrong?”

“Nothing,” the other replied, “the Hand showed up and forced us off that false King. It wasn't our fault at all--we would’ve won had it not been for him.”

“Damn him,” he hissed under his breath, head dropping into his hands. It was just supposed to be a hit and run--test the new self-named “Omnics” they’d allied with and try to nab Intel on the demons’ plans. Everything went haywire when the Hand dropped out of nowhere, howling something and shredding through their defenses as if they were wet paper. He should’ve killed the robed freak the first time they clashed, but he turned to smoke and dodged every shot, it seemed. Was it possible the demons were growing stronger? Or were the angels growing weaker? It all gave him a massive headache and he finally decided to excuse himself.

“Alright Morrison, but this still needs to be rectified.”

“I'll deal with it later,” is all he says as he leaves to his home.

\------

“Reaper, get up. Come on.” He groans at being prodded harshly in the ribs and curls against the intrusion, face twisting up.

“I said get UP!” The butt of an all-too-familiar rifle is slammed on him and he yelps in alarm, sitting up suddenly. He’s in a dark grey room, Locus standing there with annoyance written in his posture.

“Felix wants to see you. Now.” The ghost doesn't grace the other with a response, but leaves the room to meet with his King. Locus follows, to his chagrin. He wants to say something witty, to drive the other up a wall, but instead holds his tongue and keeps walking. Felix is waiting in his throne room, with something looking uncomfortably like a human torture device on display in front of him. Locus gets waved away, which the ghost is silently thankful for.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yes. I did. Now that you're back to your proper state, I want to do something. Come here.” He obeys but feels an unfamiliar rush of fear when he’s suddenly pushed into the device. His hands are enclosed in something that has a bar inside; his feet are trapped differently. The bar is obviously for gripping, if the way they're pushed into his palms are any indication of purpose. He holds onto them and looks up with what he hopes doesn't look too much like terror at his master.

“Relax my pet. I'm going to make you stronger.” That didn't help, and neither did the sight of large needles coming at him. He can’t help the shake in his limbs, and is thankful for the artificial support; otherwise, he’d be on the ground. He tries to swallow the rising urge that screams to him to  _ mist and get out, get AWAY _ , but can't help but fizzle part of his cloak at the feeling of being pierced and  _ invaded _ . Something hot and agonizing pours from the needle and he wants to cry, wants to scream, wants to swear. Something in his head says  _ he wants to make you stronger--he wants to make you his perfect general. _ He wants to say that he’d rather die to a Bird’s hand than to suffer this, but it only seems to compound. The pain fills him up, makes him see white--but almost as soon as it came, the sharp agony fades. Something is different--maybe it's just the feeling of blood instead of lava in his veins. He sighs heavily, lets his head drop and his chin come to rest on his chest. He swallows and his throat feels raw; had he been screaming? Judging by the surprised look on Felix’s face, it was likely.

“How do you feel?”

“Exhausted,” he mumbles. He feels like his head is a lead block and his limbs osmium rods. He feels like jelly trying to support bricks.

“Rest. This needs to be done if we’re to survive another attack.”

“Let me be awake, then. This would be a nightmare to wake up to.” He tries a weak attempt at humor, only to get a soft sigh of worry in reply.

“I'm sorry…. At least you look better already.” He sighs; maybe if he gets this over with he can go and sleep. The pain comes again, but doesn't seem as piercing--maybe he’s already building resistance. He feels something bloom in his chest and arches hard against the pain, eyes going wide at _creaking_. He looks over with his breath coming in shallow gasps and sees his arm clamped still; however, the muscle lining it is heftier than he remembers. Something seems to cut his sides open and he can't stop the unholy howl that rips itself from him. He swears it snaps half his ribs and rips his arms from their sockets, flesh and organs being stretched like putty as that damn sludge forces his body to reshape. He feels new muscle peel itself into reality like water flowing from his body, new skin stretching like a time lapse of a field growing. It all goes black and dead in seconds of course, but then he feels something hot in his chest and new leather armor is duplicated atom by atom from his existing garb. It hurts, it hurts _so_ _much_ , but he feels the pain dulling more and more as the torturous seconds tick by. 

Before long he feels the slick pulling of the needles being removed, and he's released to his knees on the ground. His first reaction is to collapse, forehead resting on the cold metal tiling. He aches like he’d been ripped apart by God himself and left for the angels to pour  _ salt _ over him. There's a new sensation though--he figures in the back of his mind that may be whatever the sludge force-grew.

“Reaper?” Felix says somewhere above him, tone laced with concern. Slowly, he lifts his head.

“I'm still here.”

\------

He has four arms now. Four arms and even more raw strength--he figures he’s in a dead heat with Locus in that regard, now. It's a long relearning process; everything seems to fragile now, cracking and crumbling under his grip. Some twisted part of him delights in imagining crushing his foes with such ease, and another takes enjoyment from how his appearance has changed. He looks even more monstrous and foreboding. Never had he been as sinister and terrible as he was now. Even Felix seems to keep his words softer in his presence, as if the King had to worry about setting the wraith off.

“Hello my pet,” his master says one day, approaching him in that much smaller size. Reaper towers over him by two heads easily now, and feels rather pleased when he notices it.

“Hello to you too, my King.” He's seated in his new, roomier cave--apparently saving the King gives one a good reputation.

“You look rather happy. What's got you in such a good mood?”

“I've taken a liking to these enhancements. I like how I look,” he said simply, and smiled.

“Good to hear! I like how you look too,” Felix stops to wink at him, and they share quiet laughter. “Really though--you're even more attractive, if it was possible. I want to reward you for saving me and for accepting what I kind of forced on you.” Reaper has a knowing smirk; rewards with Felix are pretty predictable and he feels a bit of a thrill at the thought of using his new strength to please his master. He taps his claws against the table he's seated at, watching Felix with his bright eyes wide and alert. Whatever had graced him with sickness was gone--he liked to think it was the presence of angels that made him sick.

“So pretty,” his master mumbled, looking lost in the intimate mixture of red and black. He smiled, showing the jagged, uneven lines of teeth. A hand came up and curled against the slick mist that made up his face, pale and creamy against black darker than the bottom of the ocean. Reaper purred against the hand at his jaw, kissing along the King’s thumb and keeping his eyes fixed on the other. It'd been too long without a peaceful, quiet moment like this, and he planned to enjoy it. Both did.


	3. Finality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shit goes down, gabe shows up, and hey, a nonbinary character!

Morrison looks up to Lena with nothing but a serious expression.

“We cannot fail again. The Omnics want the Hand captured this time--nothing else. Chances are they’ve prepared, so we need to be quick and quiet. Nothing like last time.” The smaller angel nodded and saluted him, going to collect the others. The commander sighs heavily and goes to get ready--this is going to be something, alright. The Hand is dangerous as it is but knowing Felix could’ve done some immoral, horrible experiments on him to make him even more so made his gut knot up. Would they be able to handle him with just six people?

He supposed he’d get his answer in half an hour when they dropped down into that stinking pit to sweep him up.

Lena reported the ready status of the team five minutes before they were due; Morrison led them in a dive and pierced through two barriers, bringing them to stop outside where the commander had faced him the first time. Lena, bless her brave soul, was the first one to step in--only to report nothing was there. No demon, no furniture, nothing. The small cavern was bare. Satya waved some device around, looking it over with the tiniest crease in her brow; she reported energies resembling the unique signature of the Hand not far from their location in a larger cavern.

“Let’s go then. Bastion, Zarya, take point.” The two burly warriors obeyed, everyone else close behind. Again, Lena stepped in first, quickly hurrying back to nod up to the group.

“He's alone, but...  _ different _ .” Just what Jack was worried about. They all creep in as quietly as possible; the Hand is there alright, sitting at a table and reading. The cave is actually nicely furnished, the decor arranged to accent the natural curves and shapes of the unnatural rock formations. He looked bulkier than the commander could remember--it was fine. That's why they brought Zarya. Morrison gave a simple nod and they took positions. 

The Hand shifted, hand dipping to his hip. He slowly pulled a weapon, eyes darting around the room. If he wasn't alone like he thought he needed to make sure he could catch them by surprise. It's too fast though--one second he’s seated with a book and gun and the next he’s pinned facedown, large hands pulling his arms back, snapping them into hefty cuffs. He pulls his second arms from their places nestled into his coat, drawing two more shotguns--he manages three shots, one of which lands, before he's forcefully disarmed and those arms are cuffed as well. When he’s finally dragged to his feet, he snarls and recoils from the sight of not one but  _ two _ angels. Another machine is nursing a rather gruesome injury, but he watches as some kind of mechanical arm folds out, quickly repairing the damage. He tries to straighten from his half-hunched stature and is yanked right back down to his knees.

“I can't believe I have a bunch of filthy ass birds in my  _ home _ .” Morrison says nothing, but his jaw is tight.

“How will we transport him?” Zarya asks, thick accent distorting her words. She turns her bright gaze up to the commander, who crosses his arms.

“He can't fly--you may have to carry him up with us. Bastion, head back.” The machine bloops and vanishes, digitally fizzling and leaving a cloud of blue sparkles in its wake. Lena looks concerned, but just eyes the demon from a distance. She didn't dare come closer; he was known for being crafty and a major threat. That's why they were capturing him, after all.

“Let's go. We don't have much time--if he has a mental ping system, he's likely already called reinforcements. We’d be outnumbered a hundred to one.” He glares down at the savage grin the monster sports, and spreads his wings to take off, leading the team back up.

\------

He's spread like a starfish in some ring-shaped thing, limbs clamped to the loop of what looks to be gold. It isn't, judging on previous experience. He feels hands at his chest and back, and pops his eyes open to see a pair of what look like human nurses. The ones in front have noticed his collar and are murmuring about it in disapproval. One that fits the old human legend of an angel comes in, halo glittering in the sun that streams in through huge window surrounding the room. Her wings look artificial and she has some kind of staff with her.

“Ah! You're awake. Good morning!” She says cheerfully, waving to him with one slender little hand. He says nothing but watches both of the nurses leave, leaving him and this faux angel alone. He flexes his hands and pulls, to no avail; when he tries to mist it earns him a hefty shock that feels as if it drags every molecule back into its place, keeping him firmly rooted in his corporeal state.

“Clever little thing,” she says with a friendly smile, and it makes him want to shred her face right off. He pulls again, with much more force--still nothing. The clamps give the tiniest creak but it's not enough for him to exploit. The faux-angel’s eyes get rather large and she calls someone in named Jack Morrison.

“Human names? Typical,” he spits, teeth bared at her. She still looks surprised, but a smile spreads over her face and he feels sickened by her. “Jack Morrison” comes in, and Reaper blanches when he sets eyes on the monster that attacked him.

“ _ You _ ,” he hisses, going rigid. The angel says nothing but turns to the woman.

“You called for me, Mercy?”

“I did. He's stronger than we expected. I'm not sure exactly how much more, but he's got some muscle,” she jokes, gently backhanding the other’s broad chest. He sighs a little and looks up to the spectre, who’s got his eyes fixed on the two of them.

“Can you gauge it?”

“Certainly--but we may need a new frame built if my findings are particularly worrying.”

“I can report it in if they are.”

“Good! I may need some help--the nurses didn't like being around him the first time to place the monitors and I doubt they’ll want to come back in.” She laughed softly, a nervous sort of sound that made the ghost feel a little better about the situation.

“Just tell me what I need to do, doc.”

“Well it's a normal strength test--pulling, gripping, and lifting. All four arms are the same so we only need one.” He nodded, keeping his gaze on the demon, who had closed his eyes and slumped a bit.

“What's he doing?”

“Trying to reach out to the closest other demon--the only ones in close enough proximity are other prisoners, though, so he may as well stop.” She never looked up, but Reaper growled at her anyway, leaning forward to try and get closer. Jack stepped between them, lifting his wings to shield Mercy. It was just for show, but he hoped Reaper didn't realize that.

“Maybe if you stand in front of her more I can kill you both,” he says with a sneer, but Jack shakes his head mutely. Behind him, there's some soft mumbling and  _ aha _ .

“Find something?” He looks over his shoulder to the doctor, who nods.

“I don't need a new frame, silly me. I can just recalibrate it! Thank Torbjörn and his genius,” she giggled, typing a few things.

“Do we still need to do that strength test?”

“Oh, yes--I'll have to release one of his hands though so back up. He won't be able to turn into smoke, but he can still physically grab you.” Both moved, Mercy pulling the console with her since it was on wheels. One of the grips released--absently he registered  _ right-bottom _ . He pulled his hand out and checked the appendage to make sure it was still intact and uninjured. Once it passed his inspection, it dropped to his side, his gaze moving back up to the two watching him. Mercy looks pleasantly surprised, and he frowned, eyes narrowing.

“He's behaving! Maybe if we condition him right, he can have his lower hands free to eat!” She waggled a finger up at the demon, who said nothing. Jack sighed and warily came closer, reaching and snatching the thick wrist. Reaper rolls his eyes and looks away as something’s placed down, a handle set in his hand.

“This is ridiculous,” he mutters, looking back to Mercy when one of her cool, clean hands pat his clawed fingers.

“Maybe, but I like to know my patients.” She smiles to him kindly and he frowns again. “Okay! Now I just need you to pull, almost like you’re firing a bow.” She pantomimes the motion, her smile widening. He grunts and does so, the faux angel kneeling next to the device. He scowls when she adjusts something, the thing pulling back. She keeps going until his arm is finally pulled forward again.

“Very nice! We just need to do this a few more times to measure you in different directions.”

\------

The room is dark, and even Mercy has left, after some coaxing from someone she calls “Satya”. It leaves him to the deep blue of the room at night, only the soft sound of machinery around him filling the room. He sighs a bit, wondering how he was foolish enough to get trapped in this situation. He slouched forward, letting his chin drop to his chest--might as well sleep to pass the time.

He’s interrupted by tingling and he goes stiff, looking up and around the room. Nothing, but he feels the tingle again. 

“ _ Psst. _ ” He jumps a little, but relaxes when he realizes it's one of the other prisoners Mercy mentioned.

“ _ Yes _ ?” He asks over the mental link.

“ _ Are you the King’s hand _ ?” There's some note of wonder in the words, and he scowls at the tiny feeling of hope that comes with the them.

“ _ Yes, but that doesn't matter now. Before you ask me if I can free the demons here, let me tell you something; I'm trapped in a room with surveillance and tangled in a device that I can't escape from. _ ” There's silence for a long time, and he thinks he can maybe get some rest before being interrupted again by a different demon.

“ _ How long have you been here? _ ”

“ _ About a day. Now let me sleep. _ ”

“ _ Alright--it was nice talking with you. It makes us feel a little better knowing we aren't alone. _ ” Reaper doesn't reply to that, letting his head drop again as his eyes drift closed.

\------

Felix is pacing in front of his throne, agitating the other demons.

“Was anyone even there?” He hisses, glaring at Locus. 

“Someone registered a ping for help but nothing was witnessed. It came from inside his cave.” The King scowled and huffed, already cooking up a plan.

“You will collect a team,” he started, voice cool and collected, “and retrieve him. By  _ any _ means necessary. I have invested far too much effort into him to let him go to waste.” The smaller demon frowns under his helmet, saying nothing as he spreads his wings, giving a salute as he leaves to gather a team.

He almost wants to deny the mission; Reaper has done nothing but steal from him and acted as a barbed thorn in his side since the ghost was recreated. It makes him angry,  _ incredibly _ so, but he has to do it. Maybe it will earn him a reward from Felix. He can only hope, really.

\------

Reaper squirms in his bindings, soft noises pouring out as he moves. Mercy watches him--he's reading as asleep but something is going on. He rolls his hips up as far as he can, hissing in frustration. She makes a disgusted face when she realizes what’s wrong, and leaves the room. He continues to struggle, whimpering and bucking as his dreams torment him.

“Reaper, you broke out. This is the least I can do,” the King says, tugging at his collar and continuing his obscene bouncing. Everything is bright and blurry and something says  _ this is a dream _ but he doesn't care. He's home and Felix is rewarding him richly for escaping his captors.

“M-Master,” he stammers out, writhing in the soft bindings holding him sprawled.

“I've got just the surprise for you,” he croons, leaning back and waving someone over. It turns out to be that Jack Morrison bitch, but all distorted. He's not an angel anymore; his speckled white wings look sooty and singed, and his face is twisted, a mask parting into jaws to rival Reaper’s own. His hair’s gone white and he's got enough scars to make the wraith’s heart flutter.

“Oh,” he mumbles, watching that delightful monstrosity come closer, up behind Felix. Fingers press into him and he arches--it's all cut off by a jolt of electricity and he thrashes as he awakes. Jack’s standing there, but it's still the bratty golden-haired angel and not the snow-haired monster. He sulks at the sight, sinking into the bonds as he glances down at his painful erection straining against the leather of his pants.

“Did you have to interrupt me?” He whines, not caring about how pitiful he sounds.

“Yes.” The answer is firm and almost angry--Reaper wants to bite that damn pale exposed neck, infecting him and converting him. Really, even a bite on the lips would be enough. It would be perfect; he could break out with his new toy and they could return home and spend  _ time _ together. He wants to rake his claws over that skin, salt it with his own brand of sickening darkness, and twist that pretty-boy angel to his whim. The thoughts keep rolling around in his head and he relaxes, peeling himself apart  _ slow _ . It's slow enough and deliberate enough the shock nodules don't register. At first it's unnoticeable even to Jack and his fancy little eye-contraption. It's just breath, right? Thin, black breath that holds so much promise. He keeps at it, huffing out barely-there smoke and letting it diffuse into the air. Before long he’s hardly a shell; most of him’s floating lazily in the air. Morrison seems suspicious, prodding the empty body.

“Reaper?” He says, looking around in discomfort. He pokes that heavy chest and it caves in easily. He gasps as the form crumbles to ash, fading into the air. Someone grabs his shoulder and he turns, only to be face-to-face with the monster.

“How did you escape?” He wheezes, wrists getting pinned up to a nearby wall.

“Your devices weren't sensitive enough to detect me altering the very air. Nothing can hold me, Jackie. You fought me first, you should know that.” Truth is he was only there because he was  _ tired _ and hadn't thought of just how incredible his awful body could be. Oh well, he was out now and even he couldn't change the past.

“Let me go,” the angel demands, and the demon laughs, rich and low.

“Oh, but I'm just getting started with you. I bet Felix would be delighted to know that even the most perfect little angels can be corrupted.” Jack’s brilliant blue eyes go  _ wide _ , and he wants to rip them out, make the bird blind and weak and  _ his _ . He doesn't stop the hand that comes up, sweeping touches flowing over those hips and that stomach. Why did such a filthy creature have such an effect on a noble demon like himself?

“You're coming with me,” he snaps, curling tight around him and pressing in close. He manages to teleport them down and out, leaving them bare in the sky and falling. Reaper shifts, coaxing out those glittering wings and allowing Jack to catch them both on the air.

“Get off me!” The angel struggles and thrashes, still keeping his wings trimmed into a steep glide. He doesn't want to save this monster. It doesn't show any signs of obeying his order though and they’re still falling fast, so he slowly opens his wings to their full span, slowing them considerably and allowing them a soft landing. Reaper still doesn't let go though, eyes blazing as he tightens his grip.

“Get off me, demon,” he growls, reaching to try and pry one of those large hands off.

“What part of  _ you're coming with me _ don't you understand, bird?” He hisses, leaning in. He scents the air, tongue flicking out twice--the round nub-like forks tickle against a pale cheek. He grins at the sweet taste of fear and hums low in his throat. “Aw, scared birdie. I don't want you to fly off, now do I?” His voice is low, crooning; Jack looks down and doesn't reply. The ghost grabs his face and pulls him so their gazes meet, and they are so  _ close _ . Reaper can taste the warmth and tang of his skin from this distance.

“You are mine now, Jack Morrison. Do you understand?” He watches those pretty eyes go wide again before the bird nods awkwardly, head still held firmly by one large hand. “Good. Now you will fly me back to my home--that is, unless you want to stay here and let a bunch of humans see a pretty little angel fall.”

\------

“Felix, there's an angel and demon coming in. We’re unable to tell whom either are--they’re so close the signals are interfering with each other.” Locus reports in his typical gruff monotone; the King practically leaps to his feet, looking to him.

“Tell me where,” he barks, all command and no nonsense. The black and green armored Hand lifts the map the data was on, offering it up to the King. He takes it and leaves immediately, rushing to the location. Sure enough, the demon he’s been searching for is there; he’s tangled himself up against an angel that’s flying toward his cave. The King follows, mostly out of curiosity and a want to see Reaper and speak to the wraith. The two land neatly and the demon pulls away, keeping one hand firmly on the other’s shoulder. Felix quietly flutters closer, perching atop an outcropping of stone intermixed with hastily made metal platforms. The two go inside and he glides down smoothly, moving to slip in as a small shadow. If his Hand notices, he doesn't express it, instead locking everything up and keeping this angel firmly in his grasp. As soon as everything is locked, he lets go; curiously enough, this angel doesn't make an attempt to break out, instead sulking in his place. The white-robed ghost carefully works off the elegant blue armor the other sports, purring in delight and gently touching that pale skin. Once he’s down to nothing his wings curl down around his shoulders protectively, hiding his form from the Hand.

“Don't be shy, Jack. No one is here but the two of us.” He sounds sincere but Felix feels the ping to  _ please leave, he is mine _ .

_ I won't take him, I just want to watch, _ he replies, staying in his place. The spectre says nothing else, returning his focus outward to Jack. He gently pushes the wings aside, leaning in close.

“You're a sweet little thing. I'm almost going to regret making you fall.” Reaper cooed, oh-so-lightly drawing the tips of his claws over that pretty face. The Angel shivers, leaning away--he can't escape the firm grasp on his hips, but he can still move. It doesn't help him at all and he screams as those lethal silver claws rake over him again and again and  _ again _ . It hurts too much and he's left a sobbing mess with blood weeping from the hideous furrows in his once-perfect skin. Reaper mists, coiling around him tight and digging himself into every wound.

“Jack, look at you. So beautiful with blood pouring from you, so elegant even with tears on your face,” the ghost says sweetly, kissing one of the cuts running at an angle over his forehead and down his face. Morrison is scared and the wraith drinks up the fear, smearing himself and his sickly power into those injuries, burrowing in deep and altering him from the inside out. It's so unendingly satisfying to see that light and life in the angel wither away and die, being replaced by thick darkness that brings disgusting glee to the demon. He was twisted down so  _ easily _ , his hidden craving for terrible power dragging him into a sinkhole he’d never escape from. Soon he peels away, slipping out of the wounds in ropes of smoke and fluid. He solidifies to look over his creation, feeling on top of the world. Jack is dead; the creature before him is completely different. Shiny black rot squirms over the wounds, ugly scars sure to remain. Those blue eyes aren't blue, instead ink-black with pricks of blood red taking the place of pupils. The long cuts have his lips pulled into a permanent sneer, and his skin has gone sallow. He looks himself over, then looks to his new master, who smirks in a self-satisfied way.

“So, tell me. What do you want as your new name?”

“I was a soldier. One of many.”

“Which were you?”

“The 76th.”

“Then you are Soldier: 76.”

\------

Mercy howls at the sight of the empty frame, and the video from the surveillance. Her new chew toy  _ escaped _ , dragging Jack with him and forcing him into falling. She demands a headhunt for the Hand, dragging anyone willing into a team. They fly down, Mercy at the forefront; they go right to the cavern, ready to drag him out and rescue Jack. They’re met with a strange sight, though--Jack looks to be gone, and Reaper is holding some freakish monster with inhuman jaws and a cheap-looking jacket. The Hand looks up to the group and chuckles sweetly, petting the monster’s white hair.

“Oh look, your old friends have come to try and save you. They're a little late, aren't they?” The monster grins, flashing heavy, jagged teeth.

“Too late, actually. They ought to head home.” Mercy’s eyes go wide, then narrow; this  _ thing _ is the fallen remnants of Jack.

“Commander Morrison,” she calls sweetly, “come home with us. We can restore you and make you pure again. Don't you want to uphold your oath?” She sounds pleading, putting her hand out to him. He pulls away from the Hand, reaching to take it. The ghost behind him watches with interest, as if he wasn't expecting that to actually work. Jack takes her hand with a smile on the barely-there lips he has, and she smiles back, only for the gentle, warm expression to wrench into one of agony when he crushes her hand without effort.

“If I wanted to uphold my oath, would I have allowed this to happen? I let him bring me to falling  _ willingly _ , Angela. Go home. And take your ragtag bunch of idiots with you.” His tone is still silky smooth and doesn't show an ounce of affection for his old teammates. The Hand grins impossibly wide behind him, and both summon blackened weapons, driving the angels out.

\------

Felix coos in delight, petting his Reaper as he looks over the fallen angel his pet had so loyally created for him.

“You should take your pet up and lead a return attack on them.”

“I’d love to,” the demon replies, leaning into the petting with clear happiness.

“Tonight then. But first, I want to celebrate getting you home.”

“That would be wonderful, but there are still demons as prisoners up there, loyal ones. I’ll retrieve them with 76 and bring them home to the celebration.” The King nods and lets go of his ghost, looking over to the soldier.

“Take your new help with you, and bring the best demons. Locus can help you.”

“I understand, master.” The wraith bows neatly, straightening and turning. He walks over to 76 with a smile, patting his shoulder then walking past to retrieve the others.

\------

Reaper hums into 76’s warm chest, tightening his grip around the fallen angel’s waist.

“Almost there,” he reports, the ghost looking up a little to see indeed, they were close to the golden cloud barrier that separated the human world from that wretched place. They plunge through, the small army immediately moving toward the sprawling facility their leader specified. Things happen fast once they get inside--angels and Omnics rush in, getting pushed aside by the group or destroyed as they continue their attack. Reaper is at the forefront, alternating sets of arms to keep up an endless stream of destruction. One reloads while the other’s shooting and vice versa--he silently thanks Felix again for the modifications. It’s an uphill battle; it seems like every time they kill off a few angels and gain the upper hand, someone or some _ thing _ drags them back into reality, stitching them back together with golden hues of light and warmth. It disgusts the Hand, who forcibly rips a few apart with his talons instead of his weapons. It's satisfying and thankfully they find the source of the resurrections--what Reaper affectionately nicknames “a Mercy knockoff”. He pries their soul from their body, enjoying their pained screams as he feeds off it, drinking up the light. It makes him feel electric and he laughs, drawing shivers from a few of the lesser creatures.

“Onward. The cells aren't far from here.” A few slip to flank, others move to come in from up high. 76 stays with the forward group, orbiting his master obediently. They hit the cells shortly and Grey, a tiny genius, quickly cracks open the fine energy beams that hold the demons captive. The creatures join their ranks, and Reaper turns to the large group.

“My soldier... Take everyone home. I'll go rearguard to ensure you all get out.” He gently tilted his pet’s chin up, claws delicate against the pale flesh of the fallen angel’s neck. 76 nods solemnly, understanding the implications.

“I'll be back,” he promises, but the Hand only sighs wistfully.

“Be safe,” he murmurs, touching that snow-white hair delicately before moving away, quickly turning to keep their backs safe. He can hear them get outside and dive, one by one, through the plush cloudscape.

He hears footsteps and lifts his weapons, only to stare into a familiar face. Black leather forms a cloak that mimics his, a warmly-colored mask contrasting the hard, silvery angles of his own. Both seem surprised, and Reaper scowls at this cheap mockery.

“Tch, surprise surprise. Mercy made a clone of me. How  _ adorable _ .” He lowers the shotguns, then drops them. This one, he wants to fight hand to hand.

“I am not you.” Its voice is similar but without the roughness of death and age. It lacks the haunting echo and instead sounds warm, inviting even.

“Gabriel,” he hisses, hands going tight at his sides. He must’ve been split in two all those years ago when Felix took him in.

“Yes. It's been awhile, hasn't it?” The angel drops his weapons as well, offering a hand out to the monster of seething hate before him. Interesting how the angel wears black and the demon wears white, he muses to himself as he watches the ghost stare blankly at his outstretched hand.

“Well? Take it,” he encourages, only to earn a growl.

“Why would I do that?”

“You're suffering. I can bring you balance. Additionally, I have something you want.” He shrugs, loosening his wings from their place tucked firmly to his back. He spreads them partially, and his other half stares in shock.

“And if we merge… I'll get those?” Gabe nods simply, moving his hand a bit closer. Finally,  _ finally _ , the demon takes it. They come close and for a moment there’s no sensory input and they’re stranded in each other’s memories and minds. Things come together and there's not a feeling of unity, but two creatures in one container. Reaper looks down with all their eyes--six in total, and looks over their shared four arms. He can feel the wings at his back and spreads them, Gabe bowing easily to his will. The wings are no longer golden-brown but colored like an oil slick, black at one angle and rainbow at another. He shakes them out, spreading them to their full extent.

_ Nice, aren't they? _ Gabe asks in his head, earning a muzzy sort of enjoyment in return. They walk out after tucking the appendages away again, light shining off the expertly crafted grey leather they formed when they fused. There's a long moment of hesitation while they stand on the clouds, watching out over the golden and white world. Reyes hesitates--Reaper doesn't. They dive easily, the demon hissing in delight at the feeling of his first flight. It's so easy, so fluid; no wonder everyone seemed to love wings so much. It takes no time at all to get back to the King, landing neatly in front of the throne and standing. Felix looks shocked and watches them.

“Reaper?”

“Yes. And Gabriel Reyes. The lighter part of who I was, before you took me.” The ghost replies, tucking those lovely wings away.

“So you're some kind of fusion between angel and demon?”

“That would be accurate, yes. And I want to stay like this.” He sounded firm, leaving little room for argument. The King nodded, eyes a little wide. The implications of the combined energies were frightening. An angel’s finesse and agility combined with the raw, unforgiving force of a demon could mean Felix and this creature were now on level ground regarding sheer power.

“Any particular name you want?” They looked conflicted a moment, likely arguing mentally.

“Shade,” they said after a moment, finality lacing their tone.

“Alright, Shade. I invite you to join the celebration that's starting soon.” They nod and start walking, feeling comforted by the idea of just relaxing.

\------

The new Hand is a smash hit at the party--everyone wants to see the abilities the two share. Misting is now faster and easier to maintain; teleporting is more precise with two minds focusing, and flight is a new power that only makes the creature more effective in combat. Felix, drunk with heavy alcohol, challenges his changed pet to some playful sparring--promptly getting his ass handed to him. Alcohol or no, before the fusion, the King would've won. Everyone is silent as they stare at Felix on his back, eyes fluttering in shock as Shade stands over him, imperial and proud.

“Good fight,” is all the fusion says, walking off to enjoy more food. Gabe loves the sweet bread and drinks available; Reaper prefers the hefty meats. They both take the time to savor a glass of what’s nicknamed “angel blood”--in truth, wine made of hardy berries grown in a tiny place on the surface.

_ Delicious _ , the demon purrs in their head.

_ Agreed. We never had anything like this in Heaven _ .

_ Wonder why that is _ , Reaper joked. They snort softly, shifting to watch the King stand.

“Meet me after the party,” is all the tall demon says.

“Got it,” they reply easily, taking another sip of their drink.

\------

After the festivities wind down, Shade flies off to the King’s throne, fluttering to rest in front of it before kneeling. Locus was there, as well as someone writing the occurrences.

“Rise.” Felix orders, swallowing a little. The word feels wrong. The fusion stands, watching their master with curiosity alight in those lovely eyes.

“I have a request of you,” he says softly.

“Of course, anything for you, your majesty.”

“Please, don't call me that anymore.” Confusion replaces the curiosity and they go to ask a question, only to be interrupted by a hand coming up.

“I'm not your master anymore.” One hand delicately touches the studded leather collar, and he winks. “You can keep that, but my request means I won't rule you anymore.” They drop their hand, seeming thoughtful.

“Why is that?”

“Because I don't want you to serve me any longer--I want you to rule alongside me.”

//////


End file.
